


Licensed For Crime

by Pilocene



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crime, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Organized Crime, Other, The events of Avengers 1 do not happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilocene/pseuds/Pilocene
Summary: Peter wasn't exactly notorious for keeping secrets. He was easy to read and friendly, apprehensive yet open with all those who knew him. An awkward but overall studious and well-rounded kid.His outward personality was what often made him quick to gloss over as a suspect.After all, who thinks the shy and awkward nerd would do anything bad?~~~Peter hadn't expected their investigation into Stark Industries to go far. The most Ned was able to scrape up for some basis of suspicion were a few redacted finance records. Not exactly uncommon for a corporation to have.But it went deeper. It went deeper than he could have ever imagined.There was much more than just simple tax evasion.Who could have thought, that of all things, the attempted kidnapping of Doctor Banner was politically influenced?





	Licensed For Crime

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for months- just like literally everything else I've written. Huzzah! Hope you like it though. It's going to get complicated f a s t.

  
The hall was dark and bare. Not a noise was made other than the distant buzz of servers with energy coursing through them. The room was not unoccupied despite the quiet. His steps were long and smooth- hasty with a sense of prolonged yet secret urgency that translated into his pace. Regardless of the wide-open corridors, an echo of noise had yet to be created from any move he made. He took a deep, silent breath, and peaked his head out from behind a corner. No one there.

"You should be all clear from where you are now, Spider one." An unimpeded voice made its way into his ear. "The only guards left are stationed at the objective- over."

'Spider one' sighed, reluctantly bringing a hand to his ear and pushing in the button to respond. "Ned, I told you, don't call me that." His voice was hushed and brief- making its way into the tiny earpiece just long enough to convey the growing tinges of annoyance. "Also, you don't need to say 'over'. Seriously that's just redundant." 'Spider one' continued creeping through the hall, still peeking around corners despite his friend's assurance that no one was ahead.

Ned reacted with mock disappointment lacing his tone. "Aww, C'mon, Peter- I think they're cool! Plus no one will know who we are if they get into our server."

"I thought you said no one could listen in."

"Well, I doubt they could- but just to be safe! Back me up MJ!"

MJ's droll tone replaced Ned's. "No. That's stupid."

 _"Thank you!"_  Peter's quiet gratitude was shortlived. He soon grew completely silent, peaking around a corner once more- only to this time spot a handful of guards patrolling through the spaces between servers. In the center of the group, there was a laptop with a hard drive plugged in one side. Someone was diligently working away on it. _Jackpot._

When Peter heard Ned's voice again, all traces of jest were gone- replaced with a determined seriousness he knew to count on. "There are 3 guards including the one with the objective. Two around him and one located to the east of that and another north-"

"Left right and forward, Ned! I'm not Lewis and Clark."

There was a pause where Peter was sure Ned sighed. "One is to the _left,_  Peter, and other is _forward_. Happy? Either way, regardless of direction- you have your goggles, right?"

Peter nodded up at a camera above him.

"Good. I'm going to turn off the lights for... 55 seconds- that's really all I can give you before they notice something's up with their electrical grid." A beat of silence followed Ned's voice. Pete waited in tense anticipation. Finally, his friend spoke again. "You ready?"

Another nod.

The only warning consisted of shadows beginning to flicker across the walls before they seeming swallowed the entire room like the mouth of a whale and plunged it in stifling darkness. The only light that remained was the cerulean hue emanating from individual servers. Without a wasted moment, Peter activated his night-vision and advanced around the corner with the high-pitched hum of his goggles in his ears.

The sound of tense and confused murmurs filled the space. Silently, he crept behind the first guard, grabbing the back of his shirt with a hasty jerk and throwing him against the solid edge of a server. He fell to the ground with a pained groan. Frantic yelling replaced the murmurs. Taking advantage of the confusion, Peter tripped the second guard that was stumbling in the darkness and sent another careening to the floor. The man who had the laptop quickly shut the device and held it to his chest. His eyes frantically searched about the room for a threat. Before he could even register Peter's presence, a sudden blow to the jaw scrambled any semblance of coherence he obtained. The man stumbled backward, the laptop still in hand as his back slammed against the solid metal wall with a reverberating _clang_. By this time, the two guards previously downed had made the mistake of staggering back to their feet. The first raised his arms in defense while the second searched along her belt for some kind of weapon. Deeming the latter more important, Peter advanced towards the woman with practiced haste before- A loud electrical _crack_  filled the room, her taser briefly illuminating his masked face and the hand he intended to disarm her with. Her partner wasted no time by landing a solid blow against Peter's stomach. He stumbled back, grabbing the perpetrators wrist and tugging him forward before he slammed his elbow into the man's back- finally gripping the other and flinging his head against the wall. Out cold.

The woman's grip on her taser tightened. Her arm holding the stunner extended towards him with expert precision. The sudden illumination with his night-vision was disorientating enough to prompt Peter to take an unsteady step back. She seized the opportunity to get a foot behind his leg and simultaneously pushed him back with a vigorous shove.

He was falling.

Time was deceivingly slow. It seemed almost as if gravity had a delayed effect on his body- before it sharply caught pace when his head met the back of a server, producing a turbulent ring both externally and in his head. Peter stood on unstable feet with a groan. His attempts to blink away the black spots that seemed insistent on clouding his vision were fruitless. He let out a frustrated sigh. Peter turned his attention to the man with the laptop, who was struggling to see in the darkness.

"Fifteen seconds, Pete," He heard Ned say.

A prickle of anxiety ran down his spine. Peter grabbed the man with the laptop's shoulder before pulling him to the ground with a slam. The man sharply heaved, feeling air quickly evacuate his lungs with the force of the fall. Without pause, Peter extracted the hard drive from the computer. The woman was still blind in the dark.

By the time individual lights were beginning to flicker back to life, Peter was nowhere to be seen.

~~~

"God I hate vents."

"Did you at least get the thing?"

Peter threw the hard drive over to Ned- who had a grip on it for a moment before it fell to the floor with a humiliating thud. He sighed. Ned pushing back the swivel chair he was sitting in to fish around for the item on the floor. When the drive was put into the computer, at least a dozen documents soon appeared on screen- cluttering the otherwise organized desktop with an assortment of items varying in importance. Ned did a long, exaggerated whistle.

"I almost got a concussion for that thing, so it better be worth it," Peter grumbled.

MJ rolled her eyes. "Looser," she muttered.

Peter ignored her comment. "So, who's our next target?"

"You make it sound like we're plotting assassinations," Ned remarked from his seat at the desk. The end of a Twizzler was hanging out of his mouth.

"Our next target-" MJ interjected. "Is Stark Industries. Large corporation with even larger monopolies. Considering that most of Stark's money is no doubt registered in offshore bank accounts, this is going to be, again- an info job."

A look of incredulity crossed Peter's face. "You don't think I'm a bit... Underqualified for something like that? I know we've been planning to hit here for a while, but SI has some of the best security in New York."

"Which is why you won't be breaking in." MJ grabbed a laptop and began to enter a web address. After a brief moment, she turned the screen to Peter with a triumphant grin. "You're going to win an internship." On the monitor, written in big bold letters, was the phrase; 'Have the opportunity to work with Tony Stark!' Accompanied by images of several generic happy teenagers.

"I-" Peter sputtered. "I appreciate the confidence, MJ- I'm smart, but I don't think I'm _that_ smart-"

"Oh trust me I know. But doubt is pernicious. Which is why Ned here-" She pointed over to Ned, whom of which raised a hand in acknowledgment. "-will be putting the odds in your favor."

An awkward silence followed MJ's announcement, with Peter blinking in stupefaction at the revelation. "I'm not going to question _how_  exactly he plans to do that, but sure, this is fine. I'm fine. What's the plan?"  
  
"Easy. You're going to befriend Tony Stark."

~~~

"C'mon, Steve. SHIELD could really use someone like you."

"I don't see why. The serum failed. All it did was placate some of my health problems- other than that I'm just some guy from Brooklyn."

Natasha crossed her arms, looking up at the ex-soldier with an incredulous stare. The park around them was almost a suspiciously calm environment. Joggers passed by the duo without so much as a first or second glace. Some occasionally had to pull dogs away from their attention, muttering quiet but sincere apologies as they did so. Much too normal for people of action. "Well," Natasha finally spoke. "You're not alone in that sense, but you're far too humble. Spirit means a lot nowadays. Plus, there are some things working for us could help you with."

Steve hesitated in his response. "...And what may that be?" He knew this was Nat's game- trying to get him invested in their secrets. Give him just enough information to pique his curiosity but not satiate it. He was reluctant to ask, knowing he wouldn't get a clear answer.

"The Winter Soldier. We know he's been on your radar." She pulled out a photo and passed it to Steve. "Can't imagine why, but we got some leads either way. Unfortunately, I can't disclose them to a normal citizen."

Steve looked down at the image. Staring back at him was the cold and unfeeling thousand-yard stare of the Winter Soldier. The gaze was so piercing, a picture was almost enough to have coils of trepidation twisting themselves in his stomach.

Steve passed the image back to Natasha. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

"Just stating the facts, Cap. I didn't think you'd appreciate secrets.

"No, No I don't."

Nat looked up at him. "Then I'll lay it on you straight. Are you in? You may think you're just a regular Vet, but Fury sees potential in you and so do I. We wouldn't be asking for your services otherwise."

~~~

The inside of the Helicarrier was a sleek yet jagged modern Steve was unused to. High-hung ceilings and massive, luminous windows- that seemed to let in an impossible amount of light- allowed the senses to perceive the room to be much larger than it actually was. He never appreciated open spaces. Open spaces meant less to hide behind and fewer shadows to creep through. Your voice carried much too easy. Windows were fragile and could readily be weaponized against your enemy or against you. Anything could happen and there would be nowhere to go. Someone could shoot him from any position and he wouldn't have a direct line of sight to know who. Someone could put him down at this very moment. He was powerless. He was waiting for, no- _expecting_  an attack at any moment. A shot to ring out and land between his eyes before even a moment to react could pass. He couldn't save himself. He couldn't save _Him._

_I'm sorry-_

Natasha's firm grip met his shoulder. "You alright there, Cap? Got the stare."

It took a moment, but his thoughts eventually pulled themselves from the forefront of his brain. With a deep breath, he focused on the solid, grounding feeling Natasha had perhaps unknowingly provided for him. He was here. She was here. They were fine. When Steve spoke, he was surprised by the evenness of his own voice. "Yes. Thank you, Agent Romanoff. I appreciate your concern greatly."

Nat smiled as she slid her hand off Steve's shoulder. "Please, just call me Natasha."

A new voice suddenly interjected into the conversation- Snarky yet lighthearted. "You mackin' on our new cohort here, Tasha?" The speaker walked towards them, not trying to suppress the sarcastic grin that had made its way across his face at the comment.

Nat rolled her eyes. "You're just envious it's not you," she said.

The man ignored the comment, rather turning his attention to Steve- who at that point had been watching the exchange with tempered fascination.

"You must be Rogers. Nice to finally be able to meet the Captian himself! Hope life's been treating you good after the war."

Steve shook his head. "About as well as it can be."

The man nodded, taking Steve's hand in his own and shaking it hastily. "Clint Barton. The people here know me as Hawkeye, though."

Steve gave out a polite smile. "Well met, Barton. I'm Steve Rogers."

"Oh I know," Clint said with a grin. "Coulson won't ever shut up about you."

"Well, that's-"

"-I expected you to look older, Rogers." The imposing voice of Nick Fury pierced through the conversation, grabbing the attention of the three agents in the room. Steve knows who that is: The Director himself. Fury approached the group with an amble that somehow managed to be casual yet authoritative all at the same time. "Good to know you'll be on our team, regardless. We need more men like you."

"What about me?" Clint muttered.

The group ignored him.

Steve sighed as he shook Nick's hand. "I wish there weren't any men like me."

"Men like you or men who have had your experiences?"

"Can not say I'm overly fond of either, sir."

Nick scowled as he looked behind him at Clint and Natasha, who merely raised an eyebrow at his expression before he finally turned his single, steely-eyed gaze back onto Steve. "I gave you a compliment, damn it. Don't be so humble. Your reputation precedes you more than you would think, Captian."

Natasha interjected before Steve could respond. "Don't be too hard on him, Director. The only reason he's here in the first place is to get more information on the Winter Soldier."

Steve scowled. "Are you eventually going to hand that over to me?"

"Soon," said Fury. "While I'm really quite interested to know why a guy like you wants to know about a guy like him- we need you to do something for us first."

"Like what?"

Fury paused. "Undercover operation." The atmosphere in the room grew more serious, any sense of humor quickly being replaced with terse discussion and quiet listening. Fury spoke with a sense of finality in his tone as he addressed the group. "Doctor Bruce Banner has been under SHIELD protection this past week due to an attempted kidnapping. We have an indication to believe Stark Industries is trying to get their hands on him for unknown reasons." He turned directly to Rogers. "It's your job to find out if they are, and if that's the case, why."

Steve idly picked at fraying threads on his t-shirt as Nick spoke. "Not to turn down a job, but why don't you just send regular agents? I feel as though they could get this done just as well as me." He looked passed the Director to Clint and Nat, whom of which threw him a lopsided grin and blank look respectively.

Fury's expression grew distasteful. Steve frowned, thinking that perhaps he had said something wrong. Instead- "We don't doubt that Stark has a list of our operatives. You've been off the map, however." He points to Nat and Clint. "Same with Romanoff and Barton."

"So what's the plan, then?" Clint asked, finally speaking up and breaking his streak of silence. Seeming to want to keep up with his outward impartialness, his expression was quizzical, a sharp contrast to the blank and unreadable slate that commonly was Natasha's face.

Fury raised a single eyebrow before answering his question. "For legal reasons, Stark's been given an official notice of investigation, but he doesn't know who will be doing the snooping or when. Rogers and Romanoff will be posing as small-time investors looking around Stark tower, coming in after a faux group of obvious cohorts in an attempt to draw Stark's attention away from them."

Clint clasped his hands together and grinned. "Great! That had nothing to do with me. The hell's my job?"

" _Your job,_ " Fury pointed at Barton. "Is to make sure nothing goes to shit."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Thank you for that very specific assignment, Director Fury. It's great to know exactly what I'll be doing on this mission."

Natasha firmly, but jokingly, jabbed Clint in the ribs with her elbow. "Just watch our backs, you dolt."

Clint subtly rubbed where Natasha had hit him but was laughing nonetheless.

After the gaieties simmered down, Fury addressed the group once again. "The faux investigation team will be leaving for Stark Tower at about 1300 hours in five days. You'll be going in fifteen minutes after them. Sound like a plan?"

The three nod.

"Great. Agent Barton, please show _Agent Rogers_  to where he'll be staying with us."  
  
Steve visibly cringed as his face contorted into a grimace. "I kindly request you don't call me that, Director Fury. Just Steve is fine, or hell, even _Rogers_  is better than _Agent._ "

"Roger that Captian Rogers," Clint quipped.

Steve groaned with objection, placing both hands over his face, muffling some of his complaints.

"C'mon, Cap- I'll show you where we keep the good shampoo."

~~~

"Ned, it's been five days. I don't think I'm getting that internship."

"No no no- four and a _half_  days- have more faith in me."

"It's almost midnight. I feel like we'd already get something by now."

"Fine. Four and five-sixths a day if you want to be picky."

Peter groaned, rolling onto his bed from where he'd been hanging off the mattress upside down. He had started to get a headache from all the blood that no doubt had begun to pool itself at the top of his skull. He stood up and walked over to Ned, looking over his friend's shoulder to his computer screen, which had their email inbox displayed on it. Ned was refreshing the page every few seconds. Nothing. Just as Peter was about to open his mouth once again to air his grievances about the situation, a new notification appeared, prompting both of them to sharply inhale through their teeth in anticipation. They looked at each other before reading the subject line.

'Start the amazing Regal Kayak installment; now down under steep treacherous rivers in exciting states!'  
  
Both let out a loud, frustrated breath. Peter dragged a hand through his hair while Ned threw himself into the back of his seat with a defeated slump.

"This is hopeless," Peter groaned.

Ned didn't say anything, instead glaring sharply at the computer screen from across the desk, acting as if the technology had offended him in some way- which perhaps it had. Spam getting through his filter? Terrible insult. He threw his hands up in exasperation, his chair squeaking in protest at the sudden motion. "What even _is_  a 'regal kayak'? This whole thing is written so obviously as a scam- broken English and all."

Peter crossed his arms with a huff. "Right? 'Start the amazing regal kayak installment'? More like..." He paused in consideration. "Seriously... Terrible, average, rage-inducing... Killer... Incel." He looked down at the floor. "Yeah, sure- good enough for an acronym. Seriously terrible average rage-inducing killer incel."

Ned raised an eyebrow at Peter. "Harder than it looks?"

Peter sighed in defeat. "Yeah, English is difficult. How anyone gets acronyms to sound decent is beyond me- especially for long names." He grinned. "You wanna read it? I wonder if there's an actual person managing the account and we can mess with them if it's spam." He pulled up a spare chair to the desk and sat down next to Ned, who redirected his cursor to instead open the email. It was exactly as they were expecting. Pixilated JPEG's littered the letter, attempting to display the _majesty_  of _Regal Kayak Tours_ , while broken English was trying to sell you into buying different tickets for your friends and family. From that point on, it was a standard spam form. Send bank details, address, credit card number, so on so forth. After briefly reading through, Ned clicked on the reply button, hoping to reach a real person who they could waste their time.

"How should we greet them? Rude stupid or formal stupid?" Ned asked.

Peter shrugged. "I feel like we'd get a better response with formal stupid. Can go like..." His voice switched to an accent that was somewhere between sounding like The Queen and an Australian. "Dearest Regal Kayak Tours, in regards to your email titled, 'Start the amazing Regal Kayak', which for the sake of brevity I shall refer to as STAR..." Peter trailed off. "Dude. _Dude._ "

Ned gave him a confused glance, quizzical expression only growing more pronounced as Peter's grin continued to take up more and more of his face.

At this point, Pete was practically vibrating with excitement, hardly containing his enthusiasm as he answered Ned's unspoken question. "It's an _acronym,_  dude! That email subject? It spells STARK INDUSTRIES!"

Ned blinked.

Once, then one more time, before finally the weight of Peter's statement finally smacked him in the face all at once. "What-!? No, no way, has to be a coincidence. _Has_  to be. Why the hell would Stark make his email look like spam?" Ned quickly started scanning through the email once again, eyes darting back and forth as he skimmed lines of text, determined to see if anything stood out.

"I'm sure lots of people were convincing candidates. Gotta weed out the finalists somehow," Peter mumbled.

The two of them continued looking through the email for the next few minutes. They read it once, then twice- but still, nothing of substance. There had to be something else, anything. Of course, they could always still respond, but that felt like cheating.

Peter clicked his tongue against his teeth in thought. "What if it's hidden in plain sight and we're just missing _something...?_ "

"Have anything in mind?" Ned asked.

Peter pressed his lips together in a thin line. He took the cursor from Ned and began opening the DevTool's console on lines of text. Still nothing. Until he got to the final thread, that is. Going to move and select the writing- he highlighted a portion of text- but not the portion he was expecting. Instead, right below, there was a set of numbers and letters in white font encompassed in the blue of his selection. Unnoticeable without looking for it.

_aHR0cHM6Ly9TSWZpbmFsaXN0cy5jb20vcGFnZSMx_

Ned's eyes widened in surprise. "That's Base64, dude! We went over it in my computer class!" Ned turned his head to the left and began rapidly typing for a search result on another computer screen. In the next moment, he pulled up a converter. They paste the code into the site and scroll down to find it created- a link. Ned puts the line into Google and waits for the page to load. The moment it took to do as such was tense and laced thick with anticipation. Peter started nervously picking at his thumbnail. Another beat passed, and finally- displayed on the screen with white text on a black background, read the words: '270-05 76th Ave, Queens, NY - Tomorrow, 8 AM.'

At the site of the words, Peter slapped Ned's hand in a well-deserved, celebratory high-five that had them both shaking their hands to relive the satisfying sting. They couldn't help the grins that stretched ear to ear with pure joy.

Peter was the first to speak, almost letting out a shout of excitement after their frustrating trial. "I'm- I'm so happy we managed to do that. This is real- this is actually happening. We get to finally stake Stark Industries down a peg." He gripped Ned's arm as an enthused gesture. "We'll finally take down Stark, Ned-! I- we gotta call MJ- this is wild." Peter went to scramble for the phone sitting on his bed before promptly realizing- "Oh, right, it's past midnight. She's probably sleeping. I'll just text her."

_'YO MJ GUESS WHAT I JUST PROBABLY SORTA GOT!?'_

Just as Peter was about to toss his phone back on the bed without a second thought, it vibrated, displaying a text back from MJ. 'Okay that was fast,' he thought.

The message read: ' _Yeah, see, what did I say? Told you so.'_

Peter's lips turned down into a largely exaggerated frown. _'I haven't even told you what_ i _sorta got_ yet :CC _'_

_'It's the internship, you dolt. Clearly. What else would you text me so late for?'_

He shrugged. _'Yeah, okay, fair.'_

Peter waited a moment for another message, but one never came. He sighed and tossed his phone back on the bed. "She's really unimpressed."

Ned looked back at him with a humored expression. "Yeah, I mean, this _is_  still MJ we're talking about. I'm pretty sure nothing impresses her anymore." Ned sighed. "Not even the good _Star Wars_  movies..."

Peter didn't respond, instead opting to sit down next to Ned again and look at the computer screen. He read through the single line of text displayed with a bubbly feeling of excitement. _270-05 76th Ave, Queens, NY - Tomorrow, 8 AM._

The rest of the night passed relatively quickly. Shortly after writing down the address and time, Peter declared he was soon heading off to bed to quell the increasing weight that seemed to be constantly pulling down on his eyelids. Ned continued to stay up. He was researching any detail of Stark Tower that could be thought of for Peter's mission. Looking up old building schematics, electrical layout, communication systems- even where the ice cream was stored (in the basement, with more guards than was definitely needed).

But despite all that- their precautions, planning, research- Peter could still feel the tendrils of anxiety creep their way through his thoughts, pushing sleep away from him. He turned to his left, then right, and left once more until- an hour had passed and he had yet to rest for even a moment. He couldn't help but think something would go wrong. Maybe they didn't go far enough into the e-mail and this is all some elaborate hoax, or, for some reason, he didn't actually get the internship. These feelings kept pricking at the inside of his skull, seeming to jolt him awake as a new thought tried to invade his peace. Soon enough, the sun was starting to rise over the horizon, a beam of light peaking through the window and shining itself directly on Peter's eyes. He groaned in discomfort, rolling over so his back would face the window and shield him from the onslaught of morning glow. Considering how his night went, Peter knew that trying to go to sleep again would be impossible- instead opting to roll in a heap of blankets onto the floor with all the motivation he could muster.  
  
"Rough night?" Ned humorously asked. He was still sitting in his seat at the desk. There was a 36oz mug leaving a thick coffee ring on the table next to a stack of about a dozen papers that hadn't been there the night prior.

Peter sighed, shakily standing up from his position on the floor, shivering as the blankets pulled themselves from his shoulders back onto the floor. Good to know he had more drive than them. "Yeah, about that- have you slept? At all?"

Ned shook his head. "Busy. Check out that, though." He pointed to the stack of papers. "Dug up some things you probably should look at."

Peter grabbed the sheets and started skimming through them. It was mostly articles about SI- some written by large outlets and others Peter had never heard of. The real interesting pieces were official documents. Most of them were financial records. But rather than being a legible spreadsheet, many portions were redacted with thick black lines going through them, hiding any unwanted information. Huh. Going back to the articles, some were wild accusations of money laundering and tax evasion, while others actually had some basis of evidence.

Peter's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You think Stark's involved with some illegal money?"

Ned shrugged. "Certainly enough accusations to make it worth looking into. That and he doesn't fully release his tax returns to the public. Could be for a lot of reasons, but with all the extra rumors and stuff, something may actually be up. Just keep it in mind while you're looking around."

Peter nodded, placing the papers back on the desk.

The next hour and a half went by scarily quick. After a brief shower and some breakfast, Peter soon found it was time to head out the door and begin walking to the mystery address. The early October air of New York was cold and biting. The frigid wind stung against his face despite being a relatively gentle breeze. There was a light dusting of snow covering the city, just enough to not take a car but the right amount to cover up any gum you may step in on the sidewalk. Peter pushed that thought from his brain the moment it surfaced.

The building he approached was relatively unimpressive. It was a small sandwich shop of which Peter would have assumed closed based on the lack of people- contrary to the luminous neon sign declaring 'OPEN!' for all to see. With none to little hesitation, he pushed open the door, a faint bell ringing out that signaled entry. The store was more empty than he'd originally thought. Rows and rows of booths were deserted. The first person he took notice of was a waitress standing behind the front counter, heating up a pot of coffee with little attention to him.

"U-Um, excuse me-"

"-You here for the scholarship?" The woman interjected. The thick, gruff New Yorker accent she had surprised Peter more than it should of. She didn't bother to look back at him while she spoke.

Peter swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

She wordlessly pointed to a well-hidden booth. Looking back at it, there was a tuft of brown hair that just barely stuck up over the seat which had gone unnoticed prior to that moment. Peter silently gave his thanks (which was acknowledged with only a low grunt) before slowly making his way over to the booth.  
  
Silently, he sat down across from the man. He looked up at Peter from above his sunglasses. Then, it dawned on him. Before he could voice his realization, the other spoke with a low, sneering tone. "What are you doing, kid? Who said that seat was for you?"

Dread pooled in Peter's stomach. He started pulling at the frayed edges of his sweater, trying to think of something, anything to say. His mind drew a blank.

The stranger glared up at him again before saying- "Nah, I'm just joking with you, don't go anywhere. Mr. Parker, yeah?"

He visibly relaxed. "Mr. Stark?"

"The one and only."

Peter felt his anxiety rising once more, but the feeling was trivial compared to the new species of emotion growing within him. A poisonous stick of disdain poked at his insides, firmly establishing a presence and making itself known. Very known. Instead of spitting out the seething venom that was attempting to crawl its way up his throat, Peter simply asked- "Why are you wearing sunglasses? We're inside and it's October."

Tony shrugged. "I don't expect a kid like you to know, but sunglasses make you badass, regardless of weather."

"I don't expect a guy like you to know, but sunglasses inside usually make you look like a douche."

"Oh, so the intern has sass. Alright, this is fine. I can work with this."

There was a moment of silence that persisted between them. Tony had a steaming mug of coffee to his left, half drunk despite the scalding temperature and no doubt abysmal quality based on how Peter had seen the waitress making it. But still, he took determined, consistent sips that gave him something to do other than speak. Unlike Peter. Was he expected to carry this conversation?

Just as he was about to test his theory, Stark finally spoke, all while grimacing at the coarse coffee grounds that had managed to filter their way into his drink. "I know you put the internship chance in your favor."

All things considered, Peter did a relatively good job composing himself- only letting out a surprised sputter that anyone just short of deaf could hear.

"I'm not mad or anything like that," Tony quickly clarified. "Anyone who can not only get into my servers but also disable the firewalls and upload their _own_  within it is clearly someone I want working with me. Filtering out the more qualified applicants? Very clever, by the way." He took another sip of coffee, still grimacing in response to literally every quality it possessed.

Peter was startled to silence. Ned had been as careful as he likely could've been. He went through each possible unique backdoor, attentive to any detail he may have missed, or even just a trace-back on their location. Clearly, they'd have to be more cautious next time. It took Peter another moment to realize that he had yet to give the billionaire, who was looking at him expectantly, an answer. Hopefully his silence was just taken as being embarrassed or ashamed.

"You still with me, kid?"

"Sorry, I was just- we were so careful! How'd you know we did something?"

Stark raised an eyebrow. "We?"

Peter internally lamented at the mistake. "My... friend, Ned, he helped me set up the firewall. One of the smartest guys I know, so how the heck did you find out about it?"

"Best security in all of New York, I'm tellin' you."

 _'Stop avoiding the question,'_  Peter inwardly hissed. Outwardly, he just laughed. "C'mon, you have to be more specific than that!"

Stark shook his head. "I'll try and explain it when we get to my office at the Tower." Tony attempted to stand, but instead, his knees met the bottom of the table, jostling the silver-wear set out with a quiet rattle. Slowly, he pulled himself out of the booth, with much more success this time around. Peter followed suit (with a tad less complication than the other first time around).

Stark grabbed his now empty coffee mug and handed it back to the single waitress behind the bar. "Best _coffee_  in New York. C'mon kid, let's go."

"We heading to Stark Tower?" Peter asked. He was following closely behind his new boss as they made their way through the streets of the city. It had started snowing while he was in the restaurant. Many people who passed them paid little mind, instead wrapping woolen scarves around themselves and scrambling to get home and escape the cold. Tony looked very out of place with his sunglasses.

"What other tower could I be talking about-?" He paused. "Don't answer that, but yes, yes we are."

Peter tried his best to make it seem as though he were buzzing with excitement  
  
The rest of the walk was without any further disturbances, other than occasional questions Peter asked and Tony giving them a sarcastic response. By the time the two of them had made it into the bustling lobby of Stark Tower, both had visibly loosened up and grown mildly accustomed to each other. While the new intern had made it quite obvious about his lessening anxiety, the only indication Stark had outwardly displayed was the almost indistinguishable loosening of his shoulders and perhaps more casual amble.

The elevator the two of them were in was, for lack of a better term, massive. But despite its imposingness, there was a sense of sleek professionality that the glass walls could almost perfectly capture. Even the machinery hardly made a noise.

Peter looked up at Stark, who was adjusting his sunglasses, before turning his head down at his feet firmly planted on the ground. There were so many questions Peter wanted to ask. Unfortunately, none of them were all that necessary for an intern to be inquiring about. Best not push it on the first day.

"I have to leave by 2, by the way, Mr. Stark."

Tony snorted. "What, you got a hot date?"

"It's movie night," Peter said. "Me and my Aunt always pick something to watch on a Friday. Tonight is _Titanic_."

 _"Titanic?_  You two have no taste."

Peter's features twisted into a humored grin. "I can't say you're a good judge of that, Mr. Stark.

Tony put a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. "You wound me, you really do." The doors opened with a soft ding and both of them stepped out. "You and J will totally be good friends."

Peter took a breath, about to inquire of this 'J', before suddenly- a calm, even tone came from the ceiling as they entered the room.

_"-Good afternoon, sirs."_

Peter jumped with the reaction of a scared cat, rapidly turning his head to help his eyes scan the room in search of the source of the noise. When there was none to be found, he cautiously asked with a whisper- _"Ceiling ghost?"_

"Close," Tony shrugged. "That's JARVIS. The sassiest computer in this country. He's also the one who manages connections to servers on the internet, which is how I found out about the whole hacking thing. He monitors pretty much any pings that come in and out of the tower."

Peter immediately felt a shiver of trepidation and worry shoot through his spine. Having JARVIS around will most definitely make snooping around more difficult. Keeping up with his guise of cautious fascination, Peter once again asked with a whisper, "Can he see us?"

"Through security cameras, yeah. Don't worry about him, though."

_He will._

"Well..." Peter hesitantly started. "Nice to... Meet you, JARVIS?"

"Likewise, sir," The calm voice of the computer responded.

After getting passed the potentially haunted building situation, Peter finally took the opportunity to admire his surroundings, with the first thing he realized is that the 'office' was _large._  Very much so. In the corner of the room, there seemed to be some form of a lounge. Sleek black leather chairs were arranged in a homey and welcoming position, yet still seemed to carry a sense of business. Imposing windows stretched from floor to ceiling, letting in not only an admirable amount of light but also exposing the whole of New York City that was splayed across the horizon. But, of course, there was an entire section of the room devoted to making coffee. Something of which Stark immediately migrated towards. There was already a heated up pot sitting snugly within a coffee machine. Tony removed it with a soft _click,_  pouring the portion of pot's contents into an extremely generously sized mug.

"You sure do drink a lot of that," Peter observed.

Tony looked as if he wanted to shrug, but thought better of it after a moment, lest he spills from the cup. "Sleep is for the sensible." A sip of coffee. "Which is why I don't do it."

Peter laughed, genuinely, for the first time since he'd met the other. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Ned would agree with you on that."

"What, he plays _League of Legends_  all evening?"

"More like watching _Star Wars_." That wasn't entirely a lie. It's true most of the time. Just not last night.

Stark nodded. "Not that I don't like whatever this conversation is, but we should probably talk what you'll be doing here at SI. Unfortunately. I hate work as much as the next guy." He gestured towards the lounge. "Shall we?"

Peter nodded and took a seat. "I told my Aunt I'd be back at 2:30, so I don't have too much time to stay."

Stark waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, I figured. You don't really need to start today. But what times would work best for you? I know you're a student n' all." Another sip of coffee. The mug was half empty by now.

Peter thought for a moment. "I could probably come by a few hours after school and be here most of the day Saturday. That work?"

Stark nodded. "Was more than I was expecting, so you're already ahead of the game, kid. But I'm not going to have you working a desk job, either, that's lame-"

 _'Would be convenient',_  Peter internally grumbled.

"No no no- a ton of hands-on stuff. What's the point of reading about something and not doing it? You seem like a smart kid, Peter. I'm sure I could use your input every now and again."

Peter's eyes widened, while on the other half his face, his mouth couldn't really make words anymore. "You- what- me? I-I thought I'd just be taking notes while  _you_ work or something-"

"Is that what you _want_ to do?" Tony replied. "Because that sounds really boring."

Peter paused for a moment. His thoughts were going a mile a minute- for different reasons than Tony may suspect, but thoughts were flying nonetheless. An opportunity to see the workings of Stark tech? This could be the chance they were looking for.  
  
He let out a shaky but exuberant exhale. "Well, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. It's- It's perfect. Thank you."

Tony nodded. He placed his mug on a side-table so he could lean forward and shake Peter's hand. Peter replicated the gesture sans the mug. "Then welcome to SI, kid, I look forward to working with you. Let me grab your contract and then you can ditch." Stark picked up a folder that was sitting on a side table. He began hastily flipping through pages- Peter only managing to glimpse the word _investigation_  on the first document before it was replaced with another paper. The folder was soon shut and their contract was placed on the table.

"Nothing is too complex in this thing, but I should still probably go over it considering that's what a _''_ responsible _adult'_  would do."

Peter couldn't help but think that was an inside joke.

"Either way," Stark pointed to one of the multiple blank lines on the document. "You'll be signing here. Your legal guardian here, and whoever is in charge of your school, here. You got that?"

Peter grinned ear to ear, nodding hastily. "I-"

"Great!" Tony passed him the document with a lopsided grin on his face. He still has those ridiculous sunglasses on. "Get it to me at some point in the next two weeks. Just come back to the tower and ask Jarvis to take you to me- he'll figure it out.

Stark stood, and Peter, who was practically radiating positivity, followed, excitedly throwing his hands through the air as the two started walking towards the elevator. "I- This is so awesome, I- I just wanted to thank you for this opportunity, I'm-"

"Shush shush shush. Go watch movies with your Aunt."


End file.
